


Sagittarius

by sarahgayle1214



Series: Poetics [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Free Verse, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahgayle1214/pseuds/sarahgayle1214





	Sagittarius

I learned to shoot from a man covered with dust and Dean Martin,  
A fellow Sagittarius sixty years my senior to the day.  
Your callused hands taught me  
How to hold a bow and  
Held pictures of young men  
Long dead  
In Vietnamese jungle with equal reverence,  
Scattered glimpses into your story.  
You danced down the range on unsteady feet  
To My Funny Valentine  
And rumbled the tale of your late wife over the static,  
An oral history of life and love and loss  
Told in rough-hewn vignettes  
Between the pull of the string and the thunk of a well-placed arrow.  
Cluttered workbenches, poster hidden walls, and cracked leather chairs  
Were my audience and your domain,  
One ruled with ineffable gentleness.  
My mother sat behind us,  
A silent observer and outsider  
To the world we shared,  
Eyes warmed by your graceful words and the light of the fire.  
And then you were gone,  
The dust settling as you faded away beneath the lazy afternoon sun,  
Lost to dreams.  
The winter snow came with no wood stove,  
And the barn fell cold,  
Barren in your absence.  
The music stopped.  
The months of Sagittarius came and went with one less Archer in the ranks.  
To this day, my bow feels cold without the smell of sawdust,  
The range empty without Dean Martin filtering through an old transistor.  
I dare not fire the arrows you made me without your rough fingers standing ready to fix the fletchings.  
No matter the others who have followed in your stead,  
You were my first teacher,  
The lines of your influence pressed as firmly into my mind as my bow into my palm.  
You were my first loss,  
One felt as keenly by the heart of the child I was and the woman I am.  
This was my childhood.  
The long scenic drives to a barn and the hours spent inside,  
Of large palsied hands that enveloped and guided.  
Despite the years that have passed,  
Whenever the winter wind blows,  
I think of you,  
My Sagittarius,  
And remember.


End file.
